


Eyes On Me

by thedoanzone



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 14:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11150418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedoanzone/pseuds/thedoanzone
Summary: Every week, Gold would visit a little bar while in the city on business. There, he meets Belle, the local singer with a voice and smile he can't forget.





	Eyes On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda scared and nervous to post this bc it's my first fic, so it might have some grammar errors/ ramble on when it shouldn't/ just not make sense.
> 
> Loosely based on and named after a Final Fantasy song bc I'm a nerd like that.

Anthony Gold hated traveling for business. Every Thursday afternoon, he would make the few hours commute to Boston from his little hometown of Storybrooke, remain in the city for two more days, and then return home Sunday morning.

He stayed in the same hotel every week, and near that hotel was a little bar. Normally, Gold would hide out in his hotel room and only leave for his business meetings, but the drive that day had been especially grueling, not to mention the rain was causing his ankle to ache more than usual. He decided a drink or two couldn’t hurt, and so, he found himself in the corner of the small bar.

Nursing a cheap scotch in a questionably clean glass, Gold rolled his eyes when the bar declared an “open mic night.” Just what he needed, some barely talented wanna-be musicians trying to get noticed in the big city.

He signaled the bartender for another drink; he needed to be more drunk if he was going to sit through this.

Surprisingly, the first three people weren’t too terrible. Although the songs they sang were too cliche, they could at least hold a tune.

When the fourth person stepped up, Gold was about ready to call it a night and head back to his hotel room, but then he heard the woman speak. He didn’t know what came over him, but when he heard the lilting voice, he froze and stared at the stage. At first glance, the woman didn’t seem too special with her brown hair, blue eyes, and short stature, but after really looking at her, Gold noticed that she had beautiful, soft, brown hair with eyes like the clearest blue waters, and that she was the perfect height for him to hold. 

Wait, why would he think that?

Shaking his head, Gold took a sip of his drink and decided to stay and listen to this woman. Even if she couldn’t sing, she was pretty to look at.

The woman introduced herself as Belle, strummed a few strings on her guitar, and then began singing.

She had the voice of an angel, and God help him, Gold knew he was lost.

Her song ended, and as she exited the stage, their eyes met and her mouth quirked up in a half smile. He quickly looked back down at his glass before his face would betray any emotion. She couldn’t have smiled at him, there must have been someone else nearby his seat that she was acknowledging. Why would she smile at an old cripple hiding out in the corner of a bar?

At least, that was what Gold told himself every week despite the fact that her smile was always aimed towards his direction. It had been a year since that first night. A year of shy smiles and a soothing voice. All of his stress and worries would fade away during her songs. Each melody was different, but followed the same pattern. They were usually played on guitar and were calmer instead of an upbeat and energetic tune.

Each Thursday night was the same. Gold would come to the rundown bar, listen to his blue-eyed angel sing, receive a small, bright smile, and then leave. Each night, he told himself he would approach her, tell her he thought she was wonderful, and then offer to buy her a drink. He was always called a coward before, and this was no different. He couldn’t muster the courage to move his legs and follow her when she departed the stage. So, each night he would tell himself he would do it, but always find an excuse not to. 

_She might be tired after performing._

_I don’t want another drink myself, I shouldn’t offer to buy her a drink and not get one, she might find that odd._

_What if she doesn’t like alcohol? What if her father is an alcoholic and she hates the stuff, or even she herself is a recovering alcoholic and I’m wrongfully tempting her?_

_What if she isn’t even 21? ___

__In the end, Gold knew he was just being foolish. Why would she play in a bar if she wasn’t comfortable around alcohol? He justified his last excuse being that she could enter the bar at age 18 but just couldn’t purchase any alcoholic drinks, so it was perfectly reasonable that she could be 18 and performing in the bar._ _

__One week, however, everything changed. At first, it wasn’t obvious. It was just her smile at the end of her set, he noticed. Instead of a beaming grin, it was a small, sad smile. The change was subtle, but he was observant enough to see it. Not to mention he spent countless night dreaming of that grin._ _

__She dallied while leaving the stage, taking more time than usual and stealing more glances in his direction as if waiting for him to finally approach her. She finished packing her belongings and went to leave the bar with one final look at him, and he almost had the courage to run after her when the door swung shut._ _

__He didn’t though, and when he returned the next week, he understood her melancholy mood. Belle was gone. She didn’t perform that night or the next. He could no longer listen to her angel-like voice, and he lost his chance at ever finding out anything more than her first name._ _

__Three weeks later, Gold hadn’t step foot in that bar since he learned of Belle’s absence. His mood was worse than before, and unless the situation was dire and it was completely unavoidable, the citizens of Storybrooke avoided him like the plague._ _

__That was why, when the bell above his pawn shop door rang, he was immediately annoyed._ _

__“I’ll be right there,” he called from the back room._ _

__There was a shuffle, a squeak, and then a crash of what sounded like one of his tea set. Gold sighed and rubbed his head. At least it wasn’t Regina or the Nolans as the curtains separating the storefront and the backroom did nothing to block them from barging into the backroom._ _

__He came into the front area and saw the woman hunched over on the floor. His guess was correct, a cup from a tea set display was cradled between the woman’s hands, but that wasn’t what shocked him._ _

__It was Belle. Belle was crouched on the floor, Belle was holding a broken teacup. Belle was here._ _

__“I- I’m sorry. It’s chipped,” she said standing up and holding the cup out for him to see, her eyes downcast as if she were waiting to get punished. “You can hardly see it, though.”_ _

__That was obviously a lie, the cup had a sizeable chip out of the rim, but he wouldn’t have given a damn if she broke all the cups in the store._ _

__“It’s just a cup,” he said and gently took the cup from her hands. “Don’t worry about it.”_ _

__She raised her head, and when she looked into his eyes, she gasped._ _

__“You’re the man from the bar! And you’re Scottish!”_ _

__“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” he chuckled then answered in a quiet voice, “I... I didn’t think you actually noticed me back then.”_ _

__“Don’t be silly, how could I ignore the hot, dark, and mysterious man in a suit that sat in the same corner every night?”_ _

__“I think you might be thinking of someone else then, I don’t know if I fit that description,” Gold replied with a small grin. “Why are you here, anyhow? I thought that last night was the last time I’d ever see you.”_ _

__“I got a job here,” Belle pointed her thumb backwards towards the front of the shop. “Across the street at the library, I’m the new librarian since the previous one retired. I moved into Storybrooke a couple weeks ago for the position. ”_ _

__Ah, that explained her disappearance from the stage._ _

__

__

__“I see. Unfortunately, Storybrooke is dreadfully boring compared to Boston, the nightlife consists of one bar full of loud and creepy drunks.”_ _

__“There’s one thing this town has that I prefer rather than Boston,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “It’s this pawnshop with so many interesting things and stories to tell. Not to mention I’ve got my eye on the owner.” She winked at him._ _

__Was she flirting with him? She made it seem so easy, as if every smile she made at him wasn’t enough to make his heart race even faster._ _

__He lost her once, though. He wouldn’t lose her again. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he stepped away from her and towards the counter behind him._ _

__“Probably not as interesting as you think, dearie,” he placed the chipped teacup on the glass. “This teacup’s story is simply a clumsy woman stumbled in here and dropped it.”_ _

__She swayed closer and rested her hand on top of his. “I like to think of this teacup as the beginning of a story. Do you want to continue the story with me?”_ _

__He swallowed hard and nodded. “Where,” he cleared his throat, “where would the story go from here?”_ _

__“Well, I’ve been hearing about this diner down the street that apparently has amazing burgers. How about we go check it out now and see where the story takes us?”_ _

__“I would love to.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Please review and let me know how it was and what y'all thought!
> 
> Also, my confidence is fragile, so please be gentle though!


End file.
